


Yesterday is Over

by SoundedSummer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Harry is a Little Shit, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Protective Mycroft, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Smart Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-04-30 08:50:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14493291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoundedSummer/pseuds/SoundedSummer
Summary: No one would call Mycroft Holmes a nice man, at least not if they wanted to see the next morning, and few would call him a family man. His life was relatively simple, aside from taking care of his reckless brother and keeping the British Government running. But when a long-withheld secret is revealed, Mycroft will push everything aside to secure his family.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old fic I found on my harddrive while I was searching for something else. This has been lightly edited, but mistakes are still present, I'm sure. I may or may not continue this, but figured I'd post it since I haven't posted anything in almost three years.

Prologue

Lily Evans pressed her hand to her head as she sat up, swallowing the acrid bile that rose up her throat at the movement.

"Oh god," She said softly. The hotel room spun around her, and she quickly clenched her eyes shut again in self-preservation. The brief look was enough to tell that she was not in the hotel room that she should be in.

"Dammit, Petunia," Lily groaned, swinging her feet onto the ground and standing on shaking legs. She hoped that she didn't step on anything too...gross, in her trek for the bathroom and the aspirin that had to be there. "I never should have listened to you."

She opened the door quickly, the screeching of the hinges low to normal ears but louder than a wandshot to her hangover, and blinked open bleary eyes to paw through the small case sitting on the counter. It was black, and non-descript, but Lily didn't care as she pulled random bottles and things out until her fingers wrapped around the bottle of parcemetol. She dry swallowed three with a sigh of relief and left the bathroom. She did not bother to clean up the contents of the bag strewn around the counter, figuring that by the ache in her lower half they had already been as close as two people could be, why not go all the way.

The redhead tiptoed out into the main room, gathering her clothes and slipping into them as quietly as she could, trying not to look towards the pale body still asleep on the bed. He hadn't stirred, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she slipped on her heels from the night before and slipped out the door without a word.

A quick step into a camera-less broom closet, wand clenched tightly in her fist she disappeared..

This was the last time that she followed Petunia anywhere. Ever.

"Late night, Lily?" Petunia sneered as Lily reappeared in their room. The red head just grunted and fell face forward on to her shabby and uncomfortable hotel bed., She hadn't left any important bits behind in a splinching accident and that was all that mattered. "I'll take that as a yes."

Petunia looked as fresh as a daisy, a smirk on her pinched face. "Oh, get stuffed, Pet." Lily grumbled, pulling her pillow over her head, "Why did you let me drink that much?"

"Oh, I tried to cut you off, but you insisted on drinking the night away. Disappearing on my hen night, I guess I can't expect anything more out of you."

Lily winced and sat up, raking a hand back through her fiery hair. Petunia, despite her smirk and harsh words, was obviously hurt . 

This was supposed to be their grand reconciliation moment, but Lily was ruining it. They used to be so close but now it seemed she could never get anything right when it came to the two of them. "I'm sorry Petunia, I didn't ruin anything for you, did I?"

Petunia sighed and shook her head. "No, you didn't. Dalilah was there, and she made sure I enjoyed myself. I guess I should just be glad you didn't make a scene."

Later that morning the two sisters packed in silence. Lily opened and closed her mouth as she tried to find something that would smooth over things, make it all go away, but she couldn't.

"Let's go home, Lily, I have a dress fitting at two."  
________________________________________

Lily looked down at the letter in front of her, written on plain notebook paper instead of parchment, and took a deep breath before folding it into a tiny square and attaching it to the owl waiting patiently on the windowsill. The seventh year watched it wing from the Owlery, heading towards the home that got easier and easier for Lily to leave every year.

"Lilly? Lily are you up here?" James Potter called, his voice echoing through the small room. Lily turned a forced smile on her face as the Head Boy popped his head into the room. She had been avoiding him for days, ever since she was…sure. Things were so new between them, and while Lily knew how much James had changed since he pushed her from the boat into the lake before their first year, she had no delusions that he would stand by her through the mess she had gotten herself into. School boyfriends weren't usually willing to raise their girlfriend's love child.

"Here James." She smiled wanly, her hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. She knew she wouldn't be able to hide what was going on for much longer, she was already filling her uniform out more than she ever had before. James smiled, and crossed the room to wrap his arms around her. Lily pressed close, inhaling the scent that always seemed to cling to him, and wondered if this would be the last time she would ever smell it.

"Why are you hiding up here, love?" James asked quietly, pressing his cheek to the top of her head as they both stared out the window. Hogwarts was quiet beneath them, a lazy Sunday keeping most of the students (and especially the seventh years that needed a break from the N.E.W.T.S testing that was rapidly approaching) in bed or in the library. "I thought you were studying in the library with Susan?"

Lily sighed, pulling away from him to pace across the room.

"James…" She tried, but the words caught in her throat and she couldn’t keep going. How did she say this? It wasn't like they were together when it happened, but still….

"Lily?" he asked quietly, catching her by the elbows as she paced past him and pulling her close again. His grip wasn't tight, she knew she could break it if she really wanted to, but it let her know he was there. "Lily, what is it? You've been acting distant for weeks. Talk to me, sweetheart. Please?"

He stared down at her, his hazel eyes concerned, for her, and Lily broke.

"James, I'm pregnant." The words fell out in a rush, and she bit her lip as his mouth dropped open.

"What? But we, I mean," He blushed and stammered. Lily would have teased him if this had been any other time, "You know what I mean!"

Lily nodded. "I know, James, I know. But," She shrugged and smiled a bit at her own stupidity, "things happened over Christmas Break and, well, I'm pregnant."

James raked his hands back through his hair, until it looked like a hedgehog had taken up residence on top of his head and stared solemnly at her.

"What are you going to do?"

Lily bit her lip and walked away again. He let his hand fall without trying to stop her, and that sent a pain rocketing through her heart. He was pulling away, like she knew he would. She would be dealing with this alone.

"Mum and Dad have been owling daily asking the same thing. Adoption, term...termination," She stuttered over the word, "am I going to keep it? I don't know James, I really don't."

"Lily…" James headed towards her with his hand raised. She smiled, but it was a fake smile. 

"James, I'm eighteen. I'm an adult in the Wizarding World, but I don't know how to raise a child. I don't even have a job!” She shook her head, ponytail lashing through the air like the tail of an angry cat, “Besides, I'm a muggleborn, getting one high enough to support us… It’s just not possible." The same words she was speaking had been going through her head repeatedly since she saw the little pink line on the stick back in February. "I'll have to leave, if I... if I keep it."

And she would. Unwed mothers were frowned upon in Muggle London, but in the Wizarding World? There was no shame greater, as far as Lily could see.

"No, you won't." James said, framing her face with his hands and slamming his mouth over hers. He kissed her like he was drowning, and she was the last pocket of air he would ever see. It was desperate, and they were both panting when he pulled away. His eyes were boring into her fiercely. "Marry me."

Lily’s mouth dropped open. "Wh..what?" She asked. She felt like she was trying to think through molasses. "James, what are you talking about?"

"I thought I had just proposed, do I have to have the ring now? I don't have a ring, but I'll get one, I promise" James babbled, holding tight to her hands. 

Lily laughed, not believing what she was hearing. 

"James, did you not just hear what I said? I'm having another man's child," Maybe he hadn't understood what she said, it wasn't something that was easy to wrap your head around. He shook his head and kissed her again.

"I don't care, Lily, I really don't," He said fiercely, "I have loved you since the moment I pushed you off the boats, and this isn't going to change that." He pulled back and looked down at her stomach. He couldn't fully see the bump there, but he pressed a hand to where he thought it would be. "We can be a family, the three of us. Just say yes?"  
Lily looked up at him, biting her lip until she was sure that it would bleed, and stayed quiet.

She could say yes, she could let James give her his name, give her child his name, and make life a lot easier for herself. Any sane woman would do it. It wasn't like she loved the father of her child, hell even four months later she couldn't remember his name or his face. Petunia had no idea who he was either, or she said she didn't.

Lily couldn’t tell the difference with her sister anymore, Petunia had changed since she met Vernon Dursley, and it wasn't a change for the better.

No, she didn't love the father of her child…

Lily looked up at James, his face so earnest and his hand still warm against her skin where her child was growing and smiled.

No, she didn't love the nameless man, but she could see herself falling for James. One day.

"Yes."  
________________________________________  
Mycroft Holmes watched from the shadows as the newly wedded Mr. and Mrs. James Charlus Potter walked joyfully down the steps of Saint Richard's Cathedral in Surrey. He fixed his eyes on her, red hair curled around her face and bright green eyes bright with happiness, and his hands tightened on his umbrella as he studied her.

He had thought…. he had heard, through sources, that Lily Potter was pregnant. Far too gone for it to be her husbands. He had thought (hoped? In the deepest part of his mind perhaps) that their chance encounter had resulted in something he had not planned when he walked into that east London hotel room nine months ago.

But seeing her now, it was not possible.

His sources must be wrong. It was the first time, and it would be the last.

Mycroft turned to go, the door to his car already opened, but froze. The scion of the Holmes family turned and watched the happy couple duck into their own waiting car, watched the door shut behind them as well wishers and happy family members tossed rice in the air and shouted after them.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Lily Potter." He whispered into thin air, tapping the point of his umbrella against the ground once before he pushed sentimentality aside and climbed into the waiting car without looking back.

"Onto Buckingham, then?" Charlotte (for today) asked quietly from the seat next to him, and he nodded without a word. The car moved smoothly away from the curb, and Mycroft pushed away all thoughts other than the meeting with Lizzie he was running abysmally late for.

This was for the best, he told himself.

He did not need a child in his life, he had enough complications as it was, what with Sherlock acting like Sherlock and keeping the British Government running. A child, an actual child, would just be one more complication that he could do without.

And, after all, caring was not an advantage.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________

Lily smiled down at the baby she held in her arms and wished that she didn't know what she knew.

"He's going to be fine, Lils, I promise." James said, running a careful finger down the center of Harry's nose as he sat carefully on the bed next to her. "Albus has a plan. We'll be well hidden, He will never find us."

Lily nodded.

"I just don't think using Sirius is the best idea, James." She said quietly, and he groaned. "I know, you trust him, I do as well, but…. everyone knows that, James."

Her husband opened his mouth, and she knew he was going to come at her with the same arguments and reasoning he had since they concocted this crazy plan. "No, James, hear me out. Everyone knows Sirius is your best friend, The Dark Lord included. The first person they are going to go after is Sirius, and you know it. We need to pick someone else, someone no one will think of."

James frowned, and nodded. She breathed a sigh of relief, at least he was willing to hear her out now. That was more than he had been willing to do in months.  
"Albus says Sirius is the best choice…."

Lily rolled her eyes and tried not to scowl. Albus, Albus, Albus, she was tired of hearing that name. They had been married less than two months, and it already felt like there was a third person in the relationship.

"Sod Albus, James." She snapped, and James reared back almost if she had struck him. Lily loved the man, but sometimes he could be blind to the intentions of everyone around him, especially Albus Dumbledore. "We need to pick someone else. You need to pick someone else, if not for me, then for Harry. I'm not going to leave our son's life up to chance."

"Lily, I would never put Harry in danger, but Albus…"

"Albus is not his father, James. You are. And you have to do what is best for him." Lily said. She knew it was a low blow, but she would protect her son no matter what it took. James sighed, raking a hand back through his hair again. It was a nervous tick, and Lily knew she was getting through to him.

"If not Sirius, then who? I don't know anyone else we can trust." James said quietly. He pushed himself off the bed and began to pace the floor of their bedroom. Lily watched him for a few minutes as she tried to think. James said quietly. He pushed himself off the bed and began to pace the floor of their bedroom. Lily watched him move for a few minutes as she tried to think.

"What about Remus?" She ventured, but James shook his head.

"No, not Remus. He's a werewolf."

"What?" Lily blinked at him as she spoke. James flushed, but stood by his words.

"He's a werewolf, Lily. I love him like a brother, but who knows what influence the wolf has on him! I won't put Harry and you at risk, even if he may not tell."

"Why do I think Albus is behind that reasoning?" It was a rhetorical question. "Why not Peter then? No one even really remembers him, let alone that he is your friend."

James grinned and turned to stare at her. "Lily, you are a genius!" He bounded across the floor to her, flopped on the bed, and wrapped his arms around Harry and her. Harry cried as he was squeezed, but James just tickled him until he was laughing instead. "Peter is the perfect choice! I'll just tell Albus…."

"No!" Lily shouted, and James and Harry both froze and stared at her. "No, don't tell Albus. If we tell someone, it will be one more person we have to trust to stay quiet. We tell no one, not even Sirius. Not even Albus. We'll all be safer this way, James, don't you see?"

He nodded, slowly, and reached out to take Harry from her.

"Okay Lily, okay. I'll put Harry to bed, you…get some rest."

Lily watched them go, her boys, and leaned back against the pillows behind her. They would be safe in Godric's Hollow by the end of the week, and soon this whole thing would be nothing but a nightmare.

She couldn't wait to put it behind her.  
________________________________________  
Albus Dumbledore waited patiently on the corner of Privet Drive for Hagrid to arrive. Things had happened so quickly, and the aging Headmaster had planned for things to turn out differently, Lily and James didn't deserve the death that they suffered, but now…at least now their world had a hope.

Harry James Potter.

Albus contemplated the baby as he waited. Minerva was a silent shadow next to him, and he wished that she had chosen to stay behind like he asked. He didn't need any more witnesses to this than he had to have. Minerva saw through his calm, more than anyone ever had, and that was a weakness he could not afford. 

Petunia Dursley. He remembered the girl, remembered the letters she sent to him begging to join her sister at Hogwarts, and remembered how much he hated having to write each and every rejection over the years until the letters finally tapered off and disappeared. It was always hardest, for those left behind.

"I can't believe you, Albus," Minerva hissed quietly from his side. "I've watched these two all day, you'll not find worse guardians than them!" The Scottish burr in his Deputy's voice told Albus just how upset she was, but he just gave her a sad smile and shook his head.

"They are the only choice, Minerva. He needs to grow up away from the fame and pressure that will surround him in our world. He needs time to have a normal childhood."

She shook her head and glared at him harder. "Not with these people, Albus. I saw their son, Harry's cousin, kicking his mother all the way up the street screaming for sweets! They will ruin him, if they are given the chance."

"They are his blood, Minerva, and that is most important. He will have a connection to his family, they will keep him safe."

Albus thought, hoped, that the blood wards would take. It was a complicated spell, one he had only performed a handful of times, and it was never certain to be effective.

But he had to try. Harry had to be safe.

"Blood isn't everything, Albus, and you know it!" Minerva was winding herself up to a real lecture session, and Albus had never been happier to hear the roar of Sirius Black's motorbike than he was at that moment. Minerva could strip the paint off the walls with her tongue if you gave her enough time.

"You told Hagrid to bring him!"

"He was the only one able to, Minerva. You know that." He wasn't, but Albus couldn't trust anyone else.

Harry was warm in his hands, moments later, when Hagrid landed on the quiet street with a roar. Albus wasn't sure where the man had gotten the motorcycle, Sirius Black wasn't one to let go of things easily, but it didn't matter.

"Let's put this mess behind us, Harry will be safe and sound with his aunt by morning." The boy didn't stir in his arms as he crossed the street and bent to place him carefully on the steps. The letter he'd carefully written earlier in the evening he tucked deep into the blankets around the child, making sure that an errant wind wouldn't pick it up and blow it away.

It had everything they would need to know, everything they needed to be wary of, while raising the Boy Who Lived. If anyone found out where Harry was, Albus didn't want to think about what would happen.

No, Harry must be kept safe, and this was the best place for him.

Albus was sure of it.

The elderly man straightened, feeling every one of his advanced years, and looked at his employees. "Well, we must be off. There is a lot to do before the sun rises. Minerva, Hagrid, I shall see you back at the castle."

He disappeared with a quiet pop, the street lights flooding back on.

"I hope you know what you are doing, Albus," Minerva muttered to thin air, giving Hagrid a short nod of her own before her form shrank and twisted into a small tabby cat. The feline sniffed the air once, before disappearing behind the hedges.

Soon enough, the baby was left in the silence. He would stay alone, until his aunt's scream woke him the next morning.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to have this up months ago, but personal problems got in the way. That being said, I'm not happy with how this chapter turned out at all, but the only way to move forward with the story is to get it done. Chapter Three will hopefully be...better.

 

Lady Charlotte Holmes had the patience of a saint. She would not have survived her darling sons’ childhoods, if she didn’t. Between Mycroft deciding early that caring was unwise, and Sherlock experimenting on everything his long-fingered hands could get ahold of, it was a wonder that she had (and Cherrywood Manor) had survived. 

But Charlotte was made of iron and steel. She had not bent when her husband of twenty-two years ‘died’, leaving her with a stoic sixteen-year-old and an angry ten-year-old. She had not bent when that angry ten year old grew into a drug addicted twenty something, and her eldest had taken control of the British Government by the time he was twenty-four. It would take more than life could ever throw at her to break her. 

Or so she had always thought. 

Staring at the picture Angus had painstakingly captured for her, green eyes staring out of Sherlocks’ face, she felt herself beginning to crack. Lady Holmes traced one finger over the little boy’s printed visage, looking and finding traces of her oldest and herself in those bruised and battered fingers, and reached for the intercom on her desk. She shifted in her chair, the bending and breaking steel at her core hardening in the face of her maternal rage. 

“Ma’am?” Angus answered, Scottish brogue soothing the parts of her that ached with pain. They had been a team, longer than even she remembered, and she grounded herself in him. 

“Ready the car and have a trauma unit on standby at King Edwards, if you will.” Charlotte stated and pushed herself back from her desk. Her hands absolutely did not shake, she told herself, as she gathered her things and strode towards the door. She did not wait for a reply. She knew, just as she knew the sun would rise in the east every morning, that Angus would do as he was asked. 

He was her constant, and she desperately needed that foundation. 

She had expected this out of Sherlock; his drug induced shenanigans, and obsession with solving any mystery that caught his interest, was exactly the sort of lifestyle that lent itself to miniature lookalikes running around London’s suburbs.  
She had not expected her always in control eldest to be the one causing her current headache. 

Angus had the Rolls waiting, the bulletproof silver frame gleaming in the sunlight as she stepped out of Cherrywood and down towards the door he held open. He did not smile at her, his own eyes filled with as much concern as she knew that hers held. He loved the boys as much as she did, had been beside them for every scrapped knee and late night request for bail, she knew that he would be there for them as much as he would be there for her. It made her smile as she slid into the rich leather and the door closed behind her. 

“Little Whinging, ma’am?” He asked, the car smoothly sliding into motion and heading down the drive. “We should avoid the worst of the traffic, but I can call for the helicopter if you wish.”

“No, Angus,” Charlotte murmured quietly, looking down at the picture still held tightly in her gloved hands. “We don’t  
want to frighten our hosts more than we must.”

“Ma’am?” Angus asked, a bit confused. Charlotte was not the type of woman to leave things half done. Her marriage was proof of that. 

“Mycroft will want to attend to the remains, I am sure. As soon as we make him see the truth.” She frowned. “I do hope he is not in one of his obstinate moods. He’s let this situation fester long enough.” 

“Understood ma’am. The trauma team will be waiting, bar an emergency with Her Majesty.” 

“Thank you Angus. I do hope we are not too late. Children are fragile things.”

Angus snorted. “If the boy is a Holmes, ma’am, fragile is the last word I would use to describe him. He may be a bit bent, but nothing we can’t fix with time.” 

“Indeed.”  
*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry ducked behind the hedges of Number 12, hugging his library books to his chest as the thundering footsteps of Dudley and his gang of followers charged past. His right eye throbbed with pain, evidence of his early run in with his cousin, and he wanted to avoid another at all costs. 

“One. Two. Three. Four.” Harry counted slowly in his head, the numbers soothing him as the footsteps got further and further away from his hiding spot. “Five. Six. Seven. Eigh…” The foot steps faded out of hearing range, and Harry braved a peek over the top of the hedge. No one was in sight, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped out into the open. He was already late, the bright sun of a hot May day giving way to a cool spring evening, but he didn’t care. 

He would rather take his lumps from Aunt Petunia than from Dudley and his gang any day. Aunt Petunia never left bruises where others could see, and her words hurt more than the hits anyway. Dudley didn’t care who saw.  
Harry, a small boy in a tattered yellow jumper and beaten tennis shoes, made his way down the sidewalk. His mind quickly wandered away from the threat his cousin presented, and to the history books that he clutched tightly in his arms. He had stumbled upon them by accident, sneaking into the adult stacks when the children’s library no longer held any interest for him, and he couldn’t wait to start reading. Books were the one thing that he could call his own. Dudley took anything that Harry found interesting, just because he could, but he avoided books like the plague. 

Harry smiled at the thought. If he was quick enough, and Dudley just slow enough, he could escape into the library and the worlds contained within, a refuge for a few short hours. 

It helped that the Librarian, Mrs. Dolly, hated Dudley and his friends more than Harry himself. Though she would never admit to hating any of her students, it was clear in how much pleasure she took in scolding Dudley whenever she managed to catch him doing something he shouldn’t. Harry was rather fond of her, though a vague fondness was all it amounted to. 

He knew what happened when he got overly fond of someone. 

They always managed to disappear. 

He didn’t want that to happen to Mrs. Dolly, so he stayed distant from her bright smiles and cheery hellos, ignoring the offers of sweets or lollys, and kept his head down. She was safer that way, and so was he. 

Caring was not an advantage, after all. 

“There you are, Freak.” 

Harry stopped in his tracks, looking up from the book on ancient Rome that he had peeked a look at and paled. Dudley, a smirk across his piggy face, uncrossed his arms and took a threatening step towards his younger and smaller cousin. His friends, Piers Polkis slamming his right hand into his left palm like the fighters on tv, fanned out behind him.  
Harry looked around, panic filling him as he realized he was totally trapped. None of the adults on the street were paying attention to the ring of boys, and none of them would raise a hand to protect the Freak of Number Four even if he did scream and manage to draw their attention. He was a delinquent after all, and they would probably think he was bringing the fight on himself. 

“Dudley…..”

“Shut up, Freaky Potty,” Piers called from behind Dudley’s bulk, pointed nose and beady eyes showing his excitement. Harry flinched backwards from that look. Dudley hit harder, but Piers ran faster. Harry had no chance of escaping the other boy if he tried to run. 

“You’re gonna pay, Freak. I know you’re the one that snitched to that old bag.” Dudley sneered. “We lost recess for the next week.” 

Harry hadn’t told her anything. He knew what happened when he told anyone what Dudley did to him. He got in even more trouble. 

“Dudley, I promise, I didn’t….”

It didn’t do any good. Dudley leapt at him, crossing the distance between them quickly, much quicker than an eight year old of his size should be able to move. Harry saw the fist coming towards him, and closed his eyes. His head snapped to the side, his ears ringing from the impact and blood running from his nose. 

From there, things only got worse. Harry curled into a ball on the cracked pavement, covering his head, and waited for it to be over. He knew better than to fight back. He did hope, though, that the other boys left the history books alone. He didn’t want to see the look on Mrs. Dolly’s face if he brought them back with footprints on the cover and ripped pages. 

“Hey, what’s all this now!” 

Harry didn’t know how long he had been on the ground before rough hands reached into the circle around him and grabbed him by the collar, yanking him up and away from the fists and feet. 

“Scatter!” Piers yelled, dodging the man reaching for him nimbly and high tailing it down the sidewalk with the rest of the gang. Dudley, however, wasn’t so lucky. The man reached out, quicker than Harry had ever seen an adult move, and grabbed the boy by the upper arm. 

“Don’t you even think about it, laddie.” The man growled, and Dudley froze. With his blue eyes wide, Dudley Dursley looked at the man like he had ever seen an adult in his life. And, Harry supposed, he hadn’t. Not one that treated him like a troublemaker and not the perfect angel that his parents told everyone within listening distance that he was.

Not even Mrs. Dolly. 

Harry gulped and tried to make himself as small as he could. If someone thought Dudley was a troublemaker, he didn’t want to know what they would think he was. 

“Let me go,” Dudley said, his voice shaking. “My Dad will call…”

The man shook him, once, like Ripper would shake a toy, and Dudley’s mouth snapped shut with a sharp click.

“Your dad will call no one, son.” The man said, “Now shut your mouth.”

Dudley’s eyes widened, and Harry bit his lip. He really didn’t want to go anywhere with the man now, but as he started to tow both of them down the sidewalk towards Privet Drive, Harry supposed that he didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter.

He just wished he had been able to take his library books, Mrs. Dolly was going to be so disappointed in him when he didn’t bring them back. 

“You’re going to get it, Freak.” Dudley hissed as they were marched bodily up the street. “Dad’s gonna kill you, and then  
I’m going to kill you.”

Harry didn’t respond, eyes locked on the silhouette off Number Four rapidly coming closer, and didn’t look over at the other boy. Their jailer didn’t have the same restraint, and gave Dudley a sharp shake.

“You and your dad won’t be doing anything of the sort, youngin.” He shook Dudley harder when he tried to reply, until the boy finally gave up. They marched up the walk and the man pushed open the door to Number Four without knocking or waiting for Aunt Petunia to let him in. 

“I’m fine, sir.” Harry finally said as they passed through the entrance way and were towed towards the living room. “They were just…”

“None of that now, I know very well what they were doing.” The man looked at him sidelong, “And if I hadn’t seen it all, your nose would tell me what I hadn’t seen.” He released Harry’s arm, but one sharp look kept him from trying to escape back to the safety of his cupboard until everything in Number Four blew over, and pulled a pristine handkerchief out of his pocket. “Here, you’ll feel better when you mop up some of that blood. You’re leaking like a faucet.” 

Harry did as he was told and pressed the handkerchief to his throbbing nose. 

“Boy, what did you do.” Vernon Dursley’s voice reached them before his footsteps brought the large man around the corner and into the hallway. His eyes were focused on Harry, a vein throbbing in his red face as he stomped towards them, barely glancing at his son. “I swear if I hear anything from that school again….”

“Hello again Dursley.” 

Vernon stopped in his tracks, color leeching from his face, and stared at the man that held his son in a tight grip. Harry flinched backwards out of reach out of habit, and took another larger step back as Vernon smiled. The smile did not meet his eyes. 

“Oh, you’re back.” 

“I figured we should have the child in question here, don’t you agree?” The man didn’t wait, just pushed Dudley past his father and into the living room. He looked over his shoulder, meeting Harry’s eyes and crooning a smile at him, “Come along Harry lad.” 

Uncle Vernon stared at him, eyes promising punishment if he dared listen, but Harry steeled his shoulders and ignored the threat for the first time in his life. He didn’t know why, but he had the feeling that as scary as the man was, he wanted to know what was waiting in the living room. He skirted around Uncle Vernon, dodging the hand that whipped out to grabbed him, and slid around the living room door to stand against the wall. The man smiled, and nodded approvingly.

“Good lad, your da’ would be proud.” 

Harry jerked his head up and stared at the grown-up, his heart beating wildly in his chest. 

“You knew my dad?” He asked, throat dry. All his life he had heard about how horrible his parents had been, and how Harry should count his blessings that he had such caring relatives that would take him in after they got themselves killed in a car smash. He had never heard anyone talk about them like he should be proud of them.

Or like they would be proud of him. 

“I do, lad, I do.” The man smiled at him, and crooked a finger. “And if you’ll come here and stop hiding like a scared rabbit, you’ll hear all about him.” 

Harry scampered forward, his desire to hear more about the parents he’d never known stronger than the fear of the punishment that would no doubt await him when the stranger left. It would, Harry thought as he stepped around the couch that blocked view of the rest of the room, be absolutely worth it. 

“Oh, you are a darling, aren’t you.” A woman said softly, a woman that was not Aunt Petunia, and Harry froze again. His hands went to the tattered edge of his shirt and he twisted it, “Angus, I knew from the pictures but seeing it in person is…extraordinary. Why he looks just like…” 

“Ma’am, I think he looks more like his father, if I’m honest.” The man interrupted smoothly, depositing Dudley none too gently on the couch and fixing the boy with a glare, “though those eyes must be his mothers.”

“Indeed.” The woman said, eyes fixed on Harry and never leaving him. She leaned forward and placed the delicate china cup on the table in front of her, smoothing the wrinkles out of her skirt as she did and held out a hand. “Come here, Harry. Let me get a good look at you.” 

Aunt Petunia, fake smile plastered on her face, glared at him from icy blue eyes, but made no move to stop him as he edged towards the woman. The handkerchief still pressed to his face was red with his blood, but she didn’t say anything as she took his face in her hands. She studied him closely, grey eyes narrowed, until she smiled brightly and patted his cheek softly. 

“You’re going to fit in just fine, Harry.”

“You’re not taking him anywhere.” Aunt Petunia said stiffly, setting her own tea down with a rattle and glaring. “He was left in my custody and that is final.” 

“You say that as if you have a choice in the matter, Petunia.” The woman said, smile never leaving her face. “While I would prefer to keep this out of the courts, for Harry’s sake, do not think that I won’t do what I need to.”

“He is perfectly content here.” Petunia snapped, hands clenched into fists are her sides, “What right do you have to tell me you can care for him better than I can?” 

The woman laughed. “Petunia dear, your own son attacked him and broke his nose, if I don’t miss my mark.” Her voice was quickly losing all sense of politeness and slipping into an icy coldness that made Harry shiver. “Not to mention, the abysmal conditions you’ve forced him to live in. I have no doubts the surgeons will find plenty of evidence of old injuries and malnourishment.”

“How dare you!?” Petunia stood jerkily from the couch, spots of color high on her cheeks, and pointed a bony finger. “Take your guard dog and get out of my house, right now.” 

“I’m not going anywhere Petunia, not without my grandson.”

“Charlotte….” The man that had started all of this stood in concern, a sharp look at Uncle Vernon keeping the much larger man in his place. 

“Angus, take Harry to get his things and to the car, I’ll handle this.” She shot Angus a look, and he sighed. “And please call Mycroft, he will like to meet us at King Edward’s.”

“Yes ma’am,” Angus reached out for Harry, tugging him gently towards the door. Harry didn’t want to go, he wanted to stay and ask the million questions that were running through his head. Starting with was Charlotte really his grandmother? If she was, why hadn’t she come earlier? 

Did the Dursleys really want him?

But Angus pulled him resolutely towards the hall, until the living room and the woman that had turned his world upside down disappeared from view.


End file.
